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winterlovesong1 · 2 years

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Holiday prompt 32 for bughead ❄️☃️😘

Thank you for the prompt my dear <3 I hope you enjoy this and it brings you some kind of winter warmth and the hope that these two will find their way in canon...and if not we got fics like these lol

the cold wind blew you in (my heart kept you there)

(read below or on A03)

(for these winter/christmas fic prompts)

She had moved away a month after it happened. She had to. Her world had caved in and nothing ever seemed to come into focus. She needed to rebuild, she needed to see again.

She liked it better here in the city anyway, the endless stream of murmured noise outside her muddied apartment window made the clamor inside her head a bit more bearable, the silence of her small town never accomplishing such a trick.

And she had met lots of new people to help distract her from thinking this was the wrong decision. There was her new editor at work, returning to her journalistic roots after she turned in her badge following her sister’s…

(well, she still can’t really say it definitively)

Her new editor holding a similar drive for the truth as herself, she had taken her under her wing during her first few assignments.

(she could hold her drink just as steadily as herself and she admired that about her superior as well)

Then there was the single mother next door with the two little ones, whom she babysat sometimes, having earned her trust over some cookies and their own shared experience in grief.

(watching after her young girl and boy reminded her of a time when she thought she wanted the same thing)

(she thinks that’s all in the past now)

And then there’s maybe her favorite new friend, the stray cat that finds its way into her apartment every now and then, a short gray-haired kitten with a fluff of white fur on his head. It reminds her of the cat she left behind and she bestows her the directionless love she holds upon the animal any chance she can get.

But despite the time taken to settle into her new life, the calendar still turned its many pages more rapidly than she’d like in the background and now she found as she looked out her murky window, there wasn’t just a stream of traffic below, but snow falling from the steel gray sky.

She’s reminded that however boisterous the sound and however peaceful the view, she needed the sound to be even more overwhelming and the snow to fall even harder.

(both needed to be as overwhelming as her nostalgic longing for Christmas past)

But she’s grown since those years she tells herself, grown from the dutiful girl who did what she was told. Now she was choosing herself this Christmas, gifting herself one holiday where she wasn’t going to be pulled back to her hometown, tugged by the gravity of her mother’s guilt and shame, her pull not as strong as it once was after…

Well, for once, she thinks she owes pain a debt.

So, in true Betty Cooper style, she dove into the planning, into the strategizing of what to buy, from the food to the decorations, the canned cranberry sauce to the garland.

But about midway through writing down items on her lined notebook pad one particularly frigid late November afternoon, this is silly and she’s just one person and is she going to have leftovers for a month inundating her mind with doubt, there’s a knock at the door and her hesitancy dissolves into fear of who could possibly be…

She sets down her pen and paper on the couch, rising to go retrieve the baseball bat she has stowed in the corner of her front entryway. Hiding the item behind her back, she peeps through her foggy peephole, not seeing much, but a shadowy figure bundled up from head to toe for warmth.

“I’m sorry, but is anyone home? I was hoping that…” the voice resounds low behind her wooden entrance, but before the full statement can be explained, she swings the door open in a flurry, unable to comprehend the voice she heard, but found herself needing confirmation of, her suspicions of who she suspected it was too great to wait.

“… a Betty Cooper lived here,” and the figure can’t see her because his plaid forest green scarf is halfway up his face, his matching-colored woolen beanie hat covering his eyes, and some things never change she thinks with a sigh.

“I can’t believe you found me,” she says in a tone that borders on disbelief and comfort as she stands a bit awestruck in her doorway.

“You didn’t think you were spending Christmas by yourself, did you?” he quips as he pulls down his scarf and removes his hat, his raven hair sticking up in all directions from the static of his winter clothing.

“I mean…” and her voice trails at the ends at the idea of her feebly constructed plan she had made and the fact that he was clearly here standing before her, her suspicions definitely confirmed.

“If there is one thing that I will not accept, it’s Betty Cooper being alone on Christmas. Now, are you going to let me inside or what?”

“Uh yeah, sorry…” fumbling her words around as she steps aside, allowing him to breeze by her in the doorway, the scent of light tobacco and ink wafting off his winter coat.

(she ignores how she still has to catch her breath as she intakes the familiar aroma of him)

He steps into her entryway, and she manages to set her temporary weapon back in it’s corner and shut the door behind her while he stands with his back to her.

“So, what’s the infamous Betty Cooper up to these days?” he says a little too casually for the two of them and the history they hold together.

“Well, I was planning my Christmas list…” she draws out her words because she’s still trying to gather the pieces of herself together that are still scattered about in the doorway, the ones that were unable to hold themselves together at the sight of seeing him.

“Aren’t you a little old for that, Cooper?” he questions, finally turning around, and there’s the smirk she knows so well residing in his features and why is he…

“Why are you here, Jug?” the question flying out into the air before she has time to stop it.

(she supposes when she put herself back together, subtly got left behind in the hallway)

And now he’s shuffling his snow ridden boots on her carpet and dipping his head down as he scratches the nape of his neck like he’s trying to remember the reason he crafted so carefully on the way here.

(did it get left behind in the hallway too? She thinks)

Then he lifts his eyes back up to her and all the fun banter is gone, replaced by a seriousness she knows too well, one that fits a little better for the scene they are a part of.

“Would you believe me if I told you I got in my car and started to drive to Ohio…” and she knows that seems like the likely route as he takes his pause that leads to, “and then made a wrong turn…”

And he can’t quite say the rest without stepping closer to where she’s still standing by the door, without a bit of vulnerability glinting in his eyes, and causing something to chip away inside her chest.

(she knows what it is, but rather not name it)

(not after all this time)

But she figures it’s the holidays and she should at least meet him halfway.

She takes one shuffle nearer to him and though they aren’t nearly as close, they are near enough she can smell that mix of smoke and leaf paper ink again.

“Well, you can’t go back outside in this weather, so I guess you’re staying here,” and it comes out sounding more like a line from his story than a sentence she’d say now, something she’d mention after a week or two of being apart, not after only a few months together, time in which they never quite found themselves or each other again, but managed to get buried deeper into their separate worlds.

But she’s grateful for the mix up in the timetable as his lips try to curl and a hint of pink spreads over his cheeks.

(she’s grateful she’ll have the company in the end)

(even more grateful it’s him)

They don’t get any of the items on her list. Instead, they dance around each other’s orbits until one particular hour of night she wishes she could remember falls around them and suddenly they aren’t two people sharing a history neither of them can bare the weight of, but rather two people who needed each other for the holidays, who needed the familiarity of a friend (or something more) while flakes of white fell from the sky, the wind from the north dropping the temperature further into the cold.

They don’t get any of the items on her list.

At least not yet. At least not right now.

#bughead holiday fanfic #bughead christmas fanfic #bughead fanfic #writing: winter's

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imreallyloveleee · 3 years

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thoughts on 5x02

- yeah, i’m skipping 5x01. it’s boring

- Archie goes to his father’s grave and falls to his knees and monologues for a bit about how the town is still disrespecting Fred. i watched the previous episode less than a week ago and i have no idea what he’s talking about

- that’s kind of the theme of the whole episode for me. all these storylines are holding together by the absolute barest of threads. i repeatedly found myself in stretches of deep concentration where i missed what was happening on screen simply because i was trying to remember what the fuck happened 5 minutes earlier

- Archie’s journey in this episode is borderline incomprehensible. he’s angry about some kind of slight against his father’s memory that i genuinely cannot remember. he’s punching his punching bag thing a lot. Mary watches the video he got in the last episode of the Black Hood pointing a gun at him OH MY GOD I JUST FIGURED OUT THAT ARCHIE IS MAD ABOUT THE VIDEO AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EPISODE.

- okay back to my original train of thought: Mary watches the video and is sobbing hysterically about how hard it is to be Archie and to comfort her Archie smashes up their television with a baseball bat

- finally Uncle Frank shows up and puts Archie through the paces of Uncle Frank’s All-American Anger Management Course, which mostly consists of punching Uncle Frank in the face.

- Archie is cured

- Veronica’s storyline, equally confusing. Hermosa saves Veronica from some guys I’ve never heard of who want revenge on Hiram (the Malloys?). Veronica is remarkably cool with the sight of 3 fresh dead bodies on the ground in front of her. then they team up by convincing Hermione to sell her shares of Lodge Industries to them so they’ll jointly have control of the board. they...succeed? this all seems to happen in the span of about a day. Kendall Roy, take note

- so, where does Hermione telling Veronica that she only stayed in her abusive marriage for years out of concern for Veronica’s safety fall on the scale of bad Riverdale parenting moments

- only Riverdale would insist that Hermione’s plan to become a Real Housewife is in any way better than Hiram’s plan to go chill in the Caymans for a year

- this is an excellent episode for Penelope Blossom, who kills her entire extended family, and Penelope Blossom only

- Cheryl takes an overnight getaway to an undisclosed location with Toni so that she’ll have an alibi while her mother carries out familicide. she returns wearing a large fur hat and a short skirt. this HAD to be a roundtrip flight to Sheremetyevo, right???

- i love Jughead’s subtle diss when he’s like “well it’s in the Midwest, BUT”

- FP when he learns about Jughead’s college acceptance: let’s go eat all the burgers at Pop’s!!! FP when he sees the auteur video that takes place in their house: we’re going to the Five Seasons!!! reminder that literally none of the 5 people in this household are employed

- “i thought we should talk about this over drinks,” said the underage boy to his alcoholic father

- click here for my thoughts on the charles-is-a-serial-killer-confession-scene

- let me just end on the note that bughead’s intense spooning while they sleep is deeply adorable despite bearing no resemblance to how actual humans sleep, and i hope we get to see it again before this show ends

#loveleee rewatches riverdale s5a #i really did try to write a 5x01 recap and it was like pulling teeth #just absolutely nothing interesting to say #other than bughead was super cute #riverdale

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melimelrockswell1204 · 3 years

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To add in my amazingly sought after Unpopular Opinion™️, I won't be mad if Jabitha were to happen.

Yes, I said it.

Does that make me less of a Bughead fan? I mean, in some eyes maybe?

But also some eyes believe see that baseball is boring and like, we all know that's not the case so like why am I gonna burden myself to care what those "some eyes" believe?

I haven't been watching this season, this ain't news. But from all reports, the only people that have been there for Jughead have been Tabitha and her grandfather. The only person that gave a shit about Jug and his drinking have been...yep, you guessed it - Tabitha.

Not Archie. Not Betty. Not Toni or the rest of the Serpents.

Just the Tates.

And yes, I completely understand how problematic Jabitha may be. But the burden of the RVD writers’ racism isn’t on the Jabitha shippers. How the show treats POC isn’t the fault of the fans of those characters, it’s the fault of that writers room. It’s not on the Toni fans that Toni become a pod person for seasons 3-4, it’s on the writers that write Toni.

And I hate to state the obvious, but like - the show’s racism is so much bigger than Jabitha. It starts in the writers’ room and moves outwards, and we’ve all seen those photos of that writers room.

I’ve seen Jabitha shippers be compared to the Jeronica shipping of s2 (what?) or B*rchie (I swear to God, I’ve never been so offended, DAFUQ?!?!!?) - and I’m sitting here thinking, who the fuck are these people talking to? Almost every Jabitha shipper understands that in the end, it’s going to be Jug and Betty. We know this - this isn’t news. But wanting a simple kiss between Jughead and Tabitha, that’s not the end of the world like some of y’all seem to think it is.

#jabitha #bughead fandom discourse #rd negativity #bughead fandom negativity #some of y'all just need to chill fah real fah real #let juggie kiss tabi #it ain't the end of the world

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daphnesvieira · 4 years

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tag game! get to know me

tagged by: the wonderful @thetaoofbetty 💖

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? My regular one is grey, but I have a purple one in my purse that i use a lot.

2. name a food you never eat- i’ll try anything at least once. Foods i’d rather NOT eat again? Hmmm probably sea urchin

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold, especially my arms for some reason

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? feeding my 11 days old baby

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? ok so this changes quite often, right now i’d say Aero. Ask me in a month or two and it might be something completely different (i’m very partial to After Eight chocolates around the holidays)

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? yes, many times! i live in the hockey mecca of the Montreal Canadiens and have been to many, many games. i’ve also attended soccer games of the Montreal Impact and Lisbon’s Benfica. Oh and the Women’s Cup that was held in Montreal a few years back, that was fun! Back when Montreal still had a baseball team (RIP the Expos), i went to a few as well. I’ve also attended matches of the Rogers Cup (tennis).

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? “love you” to my husband who just took over with the baby so i could have a bit to myself and answer this! haha

8. what is your favorite ice cream? i’m a simple gal: i like vanilla because it can be matched with so many flavours. i also really love Ben & Jerry’s The Tonight Dough (created by Jimmy Fallon)

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? water. i drink a lot of water because breastfeeding

10. do you like your wallet? i love my wallet! Ever since 2005, all my purses and wallets are from this Portuguese company called Cavalinho and they’re all gorgeous!

11. what is the last thing you ate? eggs over easy and crispy bacon

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? nope!

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? probably the NHL Stanley Cup final

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Chicago Mix baby! That thing is like crack: i will eat the whole bag if no one stops me!

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? my mom

16. ever been camping? in a camper, does that count? In 2005, i went on a 2-weeks roadtrip with a camper across Spain and the South of France.

17. do you take vitamins? i’m still taking my prenatal vitamins because the Dr said to keep taking them until i stop breastfeeding. Normally, i don’t though.

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? i do not.

19. do you have a tan? i actually laughed out loud at this one because i’m so ridiculously pale, it’s laughable to imagine myself with a tan

20. do you prefer chinese or pizza? pizza. i’ve answered this many times, but pizza is that food that even when it’s bad, it’s still good.

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? not if i can help it, straws are not good for the environment peeps!

22. what color socks do you usually wear? i like fun socks, i have this Harry Potter set from Hot Topic that i’ve been wearing a lot (currently the ones that say: ‘Mischief Managed’)

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? yes... uh i mean no! Wait, where’s my lawyer?

24. what terrifies you? that something bad happens to my kids or my family

25. look to your left, what do you see? a poster of Sandeman’s Port wine

26. what chore do you hate most? cleaning the bathrooms, no contest

27. what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? i’m a lover of pretty much all accents so i’d think it’s sexy

28. what’s your favorite soda? Orange Crush or Mountain Dew

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? drive thru, i’m a mom of three: drive thru ftw

30. what’s your favorite number? 9 because i was born on the 9th day of the 9th month

31. who’s the last person you talked to? i talk to myself in my head a lot, but out loud it was my husband (see answer to question #7)

32. favorite meat? uhhhh chicken? i dunno, i’ve never given this any thought whatsoever

33. last song you listened to? Tina Turner’s 'Simply the Best’ covered by Noah Reid on Schitt’s Creek when Patrick serenades David and yes i was all up in my emotions

34. last book you read? Lili Reinhart’s ‘Swimming Lessons’

35. favorite day of the week? we’re in a pandemic, what is time anymore? also, as a mom of 2 toddlers and a baby, there is no such thing as a favourite day of the week anymore.

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? probably... but really slowly

37. how do you like your coffee? just with milk, nothing else

38. favorite pair of shoes? i have a pair of lace-covered flats that i really love

39. time you normally get up? at whatever time my kids wake up

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets, always.

41. how many blankets are on your bed? i sleep with bed sheets and one comforter (is a comforter a blanket? do the sheets count? i’m making this question is harder than it needs to be, aren’t i?)

42. describe your kitchen plates? they’re white and round (i used to have a set that was square, but we keep breaking them and there are only 2-3 left now)

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: there’s stuff everywhere no matter how many times we clean it and put away everything. Did i mention i have 3 young children?

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? probably gin & tonic

45. do you play cards? i play solitaire on my phone when i’m bored

46. what color is your car? my car is blue, the family car is silver grey

47. can you change a tire? most definitely NOT

48. your favorite state or province? i live in Quebec and it’s pretty gorgeous over here. Can’t complain, 10/10 would recommend. Come visit me when this pandemic is over, I have a Bughead room and everything! Ask @cheryllclayton!

49. favorite job you’ve had? the one i have now: full time mom (i’m on mat leave). But also, the one i have now: coordinator of the CBC Literary Prizes for CBC Books.

tagging: @cheryllclayton @jandjsalmon @anchor-bird-94 @crowns-and-milkshakes @lizzybuggie @darknessaroundus @bluevelvetvideo

#long post #about me #tag game #thetaoofbetty

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orangenfrottee · 5 years

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The prompt was spooky, I went with Sailor Moon AU and put Reggie in the scary Axe murderer suit. Of course his weapon of choice would be a baseball bat.

He just wants to prank Varchie and Bughead, but it likely ends with a destroyed tent (and sleeping directly under the stars).

#archieinktober #reggie mantle #riverdale fanart #riverdale #sailor moon au #technically #bughead #varchie #my art #mine

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arsenicpanda · 5 years

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Archie Andrews?

Oh Archie, always such a good boy, except for that time he was a baby fascist. But he learned and returned to his good boy status. He is dumb, but I love him anyway.

OTP: Honestly? Josie. Idk, man, something about them just charms the pants off of me. To a certain extent they feel like they belong on a different show, like they don't quite fit in whatever Riverdale's genre is, but I kind of like that? Maybe it's the way Josie finally let some walls down around someone and the lack of complicated baggage they have together? Idk, I just want them to have separate successful music careers where occasionally they'll do a special together and people will go crazy. They're just too cute.

BrOTP: Oh, Jughead, hands down. Somehow this adorable golden retriever befriended the world's surliest cat, and I just love it. Jughead is here to make sure Archie doesn't do anything too stupid (although reckless is still on the table), and Archie is here to drag Jughead out of his self-imposed solitude. I do like that Jughead never talks down to Archie though, although he does drop some harsh truths, but I like that they're comfortable with that. Betty's friendship with Archie falls under a similar category, and I like it only a little bit less. I will say, I think my favorite moment between them was Archie insisting that he can kill Hiram and Jughead softly saying "I know you can." Jughead knows his friends' darkness and does not judge, and I think that's beautiful. But I have to give a special shout out to Archie's friendship with Mad Dog, which I'm eager to see more of.

OT3: Veronica/Archie/Reggie. I just want Veronica and her two capos. They can all do shady shit together; it'll be great. The homoerotic moments between Archie and Reggie have been great, so I want to see more of that, and I just love #MobLife and want to see more of it. If we're dragging Archie into Crime Land, let's drag him here.

NoTP: Betty, easily. Archie said that he never felt whatever it was he was supposed to feel for Betty, and that always stuck with me. He felt the pressure to have the classic boy-next-door/girl-next-door romance, and he didn't want it; he never wanted it. And moving past Archie is part of Betty's growth as a character. I just can't get behind this ship at this point. And my devotion to bughead means I never will.

Special shout out to my favorite crack ship: Archie/Sweet Pea. I'm still mad they didn't get to go on a vengeance quest together after Jughead almost died. It'd be like a fun road trip with a switchblade and baseball bats.

#asks #anonymous #Riverdale #archosie #anti barchie #like not a lot but enough that I don't want to upset anyone #my thoughts on riverdale let me show you them #thanks for playing!

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adhdtozier · 5 years

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read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18363323

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier

warnings: none except language!

taglist: @girasol-eddie @annoyingtozier @constantreaderfool @tozierbinch @notafightr @anellope @bittcrtragcdy @trashmouthandspaghetti @richieshawaiianshirts @mileven-bughead @marsisaplanetyall @cigarette-tozier @richietoziersadhd @mirandonsky

message me if ya wanna be added, or to my permatag list!! :)

Sometimes Eddie wondered if things would be different, if they didn’t have the flowers. If, in some other world, there was a version of everyone he knew who had to live with uncertainty. He couldn’t really imagine it; never truly knowing if the person you loved was the person you were meant to be with forever. It was just one of the constants of the world, like his mother being worried, or the Losers Club, or Richie pulling up to the Kaspbrak house in his horrible, loud old truck every morning to give Eddie a ride to school.

People were born with their flower tattoos, beginning as small buds but then growing as the wearer did. Tendrils of vines, or long stalks, or small bunches of leaves, stretching across everyone’s bodies, in beautiful shades for every color of the natural world. Most people raced to a plant identification guide, or else the library, as soon as their mark seemed something identifiable. Eddie certainly had, eager to put a name to the long, pale gray branch that stretched along under his clavicles, with gentle pointed green leaves arranged along.

“Wisteria floribunda,” Eddie had wheezed out as soon as he was in earshot of the other Losers. He quickly propped up his bike on the kickstand, pulling down the collar of his worn cotton t-shirt as he approached his slightly confused friends. They were arranged among the rocks of the Barrens, lounging and shooting the breeze when Eddie came crashing through the brush.

“Guys, that’s what it is! My mark! Japanese wisteria! Look, it’s coming in really clearly now!” Eddie tugged at his collar more aggressively, as if trying to draw their attention. Bev seemed to be the first to understand, a slow smile growing on her summer-freckled face as she stood up and came closer.

“Eddie! That’s amazing! Let me see!” She peered at the spindling branch, and the rather unremarkable gray buds that had begun to appear along it. “This is gonna be gorgeous when it blooms, Ed, you’re a lucky duck.”

Eddie’s face turned almost imperceptibly more red at the compliment, cheeks already flushed from his bike-sprint to tell his friends the news. “I finally was able to identify it, it was so hard to tell for the longest time because it was just a branch, ya know? But, now? There it is! Right there! And that’s what it is, Wisteria floribunda, Japanese wisteria, it’s gonna be all purple and long and, and, yeah,” he finished breathlessly, beaming at his friends.

“Well, well, Eds,” drawled Richie from where he was reclining against a rock. “Japanese wisteria? Someone’s a little exotic now, aren’t they?” Eddie rolled his eyes, coming over to sit between Bill and Mike. “I’m not surprised though, honestly,” Richie continued, peering through his glasses to get a better look. “Of course my Eddiebear would have the cutest, prettiest, most pastel flower known to man.”

Eddie’s grin abruptly turned to a scowl, as he pinched his lips together. “Don’t call me that, Rich.”

“What?” Asked Richie innocently, a shit-eating grin creeping across his face as he scooted closer to Eddie. “Cute? Eds? Eddiebear?” He batted his eyelashes dramatically, flopping onto his stomach to rest his chin in his hands. “Preeeeeettty?”

“All of the above!” He released his shirt collar huffily, reluctantly pulling it back down at Ben’s sounds of protest. “And I am not pastel, Richard.” He leaned back comfortably on Bill’s shoulder, catching his breath in the gentle rays of the evening sun. Richie snorted. Mike glared at him, almost imperceptibly.

It was no secret, the bullying that Eddie had endured throughout his school career. He was short, coddled by his mother, asthmatic, and didn’t deny the gay rumors: practically a bully magnet. The one thing he prided himself on, however, was his strength. Eddie Kaspbrak was small and gay, yes, but he was strong, and fast, and quick to stand up for himself and his friends.

Mike smiled kindly at Eddie, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Rich doesn’t mean it in a bad way, Ed. I think he’s just saying- well, you’re a really caring person, Eddie. And you’re gentle with the people you’re close with, and you’re-”

“CUTE!” Richie exploded, beaming and slightly red from the obvious exertion of having stayed quiet for Mike’s words. “Cute, cute, cute, Eddie!”

Mike rolled his eyes, as did the rest of their friends. “Seriously though, Eddie. It’s gonna be beautiful, I can tell. I’m so excited for you to meet him.”

Eddie flushed slightly. “Me too, Mikey. Thanks.”

Mike Hanlon had dozens of tiny vines of honeysuckle stretching all over and around his arms, winding across his dark skin all the way from his calloused hands to his biceps. The Hanlon farm was one of Eddie’s favorite places to go: an escape from his mother, where he could lay in an empty pasture with his kindest, best-at-listening friend and vent about his mother, or the new issue of Fantastic Four, or (more often than not) whatever ridiculous scheme Richie had dragged him into most recently. Sometimes, though, the two of them would just lay quietly in the tall grass, trying to count the tightly furled buds, or murmuring as they speculated when they would finally blossom.

It was laying in the pasture one day as the sun set, watching the yellow light shining through the oak trees and listening to the crickets hum, that Mike had been the first of the Losers to be told Eddie’s deepest, quietest secret.

“Hey. Hey Mike?”

The homeschooled boy hummed in response from his place directly beside Eddie, hands folded behind his head.

“I’m queer.” He blurted out the words quickly, clenching his fists at his sides, terrified to look over and see Mike’s reaction.

He hadn’t planned on telling Mike today, necessarily, but he was the warmest and least intimidating of all of Eddie’s friends (and maybe there was some tiny, quiet part of him that hoped that even if Eddie disgusted Mike; if he was shocked and didn’t understand at all; then perhaps he would recognize the similarities in the hatred that African-Americans and non-straight people were treated with in Derry, and he might have some tiny bit of sympathy).

Mike was perfectly still for a moment. Then, he spoke, in the same soft voice he always used with his friends. “Really?”

Eddie nodded, pressing his lips together tightly and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Wow. Thank you for telling me, Ed.”

Eddie felt some tiny, warm, pop in his chest, which quickly spread through his entire body, like air rushing out of a popped balloon as an overwhelming sense of relief washed over him.

Mike turned then, and smiled, and Eddie smiled back, and they went back to laying there, gazing up as the sun-drenched sky gave way to dusk.

That had been months ago. In the weeks since, he had slowly told each of his friends individually, unable to look at their faces when he breathed out the secret he had kept inside for so long.

Each and every time, he felt shock at their loving acceptance of him, and then shame, that he would think that they wouldn’t. His friends weren’t like the rest of Derry, or the rest of the world, for that matter! But still, he had doubted them, some deeply buried voice that sounded a lot like his Ma’s, whispering that he was dirty, a freak, sick, and that he would never find anyone like him.

He had held off on telling Richie for last. They had been sitting out by the empty soccer fields, ripping up tufts of grass as they waited for Bill to get out of baseball practice. Richie, true to form, had been trying to make a blade of grass into one of those dumb whistles (unsuccessfully) for about 20 minutes. Eddie figured there was about a 50-50 chance that Rich was actually listening to his stressed monologuing about the calc test, or if he was completely zoning out and thinking about, like, boobs or weed or Pokemon or whatever Richie Tozier’s mind was usually populated with.

It was when he watched Richie lift the blade of grass up to his face, scrunching up his crooked nose in that annoying cute and innocent way, as he peered through his (still ridiculously thick) glasses, that Eddie knew. He knew that he had to tell Richie. He had known when they were at the Barrens, and Richie had held both his hands, hard, and helped him jump over a giant puddle so he wouldn’t get his new socks wet. He had known when they were sitting on the Toziers trampoline late one summer night, just the two of them, and Richie had starting sniffling, then sobbing, as he told Eddie how terrified he was that everyone around him actually found him too annoying to be around. Heck, Eddie had known when they were eight, and Richie had leapt dramatically in front of him during dodgeball and gotten out instead.

“I dunno why, Eds,” Richie had shrugged, unconcerned, to a nearly hysterical Eddie, pinching a wound-up bunch of 1-ply from the boys’ bathroom over his bleeding nose. “That’s just what best friends do.”

And it was true. Richie Tozier was the best friend Eddie Kaspbrak had ever known, and probably would ever had. He wasn’t quite sure if he believed in God, or fate, or whatever, but he did know for sure that something special had led to the two of them being born in the same town, in the same time. Richie was kind, and funny (even if the Losers were loathe to admit it), and goofy, and genuine, and so overwhelming in his Richie-ness that it was almost staggering sometimes. And somehow, Eddie had gotten to be this idiot’s best friend. Yet he still hadn’t told him his biggest secret.

Suddenly, Richie looked up from the grass he was ripping up, alarm in his magnified, owl-like eyes. “Eds? What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

Eddie sniffed, startled by the sudden tears. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

Richie frowned, his eyebrows furrowing into his ‘I don’t believe you’ face. “Eddie. C’mon.”

Eddie sniffed again, pulling out a small pack of Kleenex from his backpack. “Rich, I- I gotta tell you something.”

Richie, in an act that was wholly un-Richie, went completely still. “Okay.”

Eddie, finishing wiping his nose, crumpled the tissue in his fist. He kept his eyes fixed on his hands, watching how his skin got whiter and his hand began to shake the tighter he squeezed. “Richie. I’m gay.”

Silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Eddie Kaspbrak looked up. Richie was looking straight at him, eyes still wide. But now - shining with what looked like tears?

“Oh my god, Richie, I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, okay?” Eddie began frantically twisting the dampened tissue in his hands, wholly unsure of what to do with himself. Of all the millions of possible outcomes he had imagined, laying wide awake in his twin bed, this was probably the one he was least prepared for. “I, I swear it won’t change anything, ‘kay? I just. I can’t help it, and it felt so wrong not telling you, but-”

“Eds.” Richie croaked suddenly, a calloused hand suddenly over Eddie’s own, which he hadn’t even realized were in the process of systematically tearing the tissue into tinier and tinier pieces. “Stop.”

Eddie did. He gulped, suddenly very still.

“Eddie,” Richie began again, looking down at the destroyed Kleenex, then back up at Eddie’s face (which he was pretty sure was completely white and ashy at this point). “Eddie. It’s… it’s okay.”

In an instant, Eddie’s heart was bursting out of his chest and his stomach had dropped to the grass below. He felt like he was floating, and falling, all at once. “Wait… Really?”

Richie smiled back at him. It was a soft smile, not full of teeth or smirking or with a huge laugh bubbling out from behind it, as Richie’s smiles were apt to be. But it was almost… fond? “Yeah, doofus. Really.”

Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest. “You’re sure.”

Richie grabbed both of Eddie’s (much smaller, how did he never notice how much smaller?) hands, and squeezed tightly. “Yes, you idiot. So you like dudes! That’s fine, Eds. Really. Thank you for telling me.”

All at once, Eddie felt warmth and light rushing into every fiber of his being. He was buoyed, finally, by the weight of the people he loved most in the world, all six of them. “Rich. Rich…” He threw his arms around the taller boy, who stiffened, almost imperceptibly, for just a second, before wrapping his long and bony limbs around in return. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Richie squeezed tighter. “Nothing to thank me for, Spaghetti Man. Besides,” he let go, fixing his eyes back on his lap. “Uh, I. I think I like guys too, Eds. So. It’d be pretty hypocritical of me. I think, at least.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn for his eyes to be as wide as saucers. “Wait. What?”

Richie smiled back, sheepishly this time. “Yeah. Uh, I think I still like girls? I dunno. If you can like both, I mean. But. Yeah. Kissing guys, fuck yeah, right?”

Eddie snorted. “Sure, Rich. Fuck yeah, kissing guys.”

-----

Things had been almost imperceptibly different between the two after that. Some weird, quiet, only somewhat unwelcome part of Eddie’s brain whispered that maybe, this is what he had wished for all along. That, somehow, Richie Tozier liking guys was some kind of miracle sent down specifically to make Eddie Kaspbrak’s little gay heart sing.

But, as Eddie reminded himself every day, Richie liking guys just meant that he liked guys. Not that he liked Eddie specifically. At least, not necessarily. But it still wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility. Right???

When Richie’s flower appeared, a single prickly bud on a long green stem, just above his heart, something deep within Eddie twisted itself into knots.

“It’s helianthus annus! Or at least, I’m pretty sure. It’s a sunflower, guys!”

The beaming smile on Richie’s face was almost as bright as the bloom that’d one day appear on his pectoral.

The Losers all congratulated him, but Richie didn’t bring it up again until one day at lunch, a couple months later. He was tossing an apple into the air and catching it, over and over again, while they all leaned against the track shack. His blue eyes were fixed on something far in the distance, and he had been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the lunch period, til Eddie finally elbowed him.

“Dude. What’s up? You’re being quiet.”

Richie pursed his lips, then held the apple for a second, looking at it thoughtfully. “Ya know, my mom says it’s rare to have a single flower, like mine. Did you know that?”

Eddie blinked. He wasn’t expecting soulmate talk, but sure, why not. “No, Rich. I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Richie said, furrowing his eyebrows at a slight bruise on the apple before resuming his one-man game of catch. “I guess it like, means something. Or at least that’s what my grandma told her. Like, flower meanings or whatever.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows, eyes fixed on where the top of Richie’s prickly bud tattoo peeked out from his collar. “Oh? What’s yours mean, then?”

The corner of Richie’s mouth quirked up in a smile. He flicked his eyes to meet Eddie’s for split second, then looked back up at the sky. “Adoration. Also, like, loyalty, and happiness, and other stuff. But mostly adoration.”

For some reason, Eddie felt his cheeks suddenly blush a hot pink. “Oh.”

Richie chuckled awkwardly, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah. But, uh, the big thing is that there’s only one flower. Do ya know what my grandma says that means?”

Eddie frowned, tilting his head. “No, what?”

Richie coughed lightly. “Uh, I guess it means that, I only have one potential partner. Like, the first person I end up dating is probably like. It for me.”

Bev, who had been apparently overhearing their conversation, suddenly leaned over, beaming. “Rich! That’s so romantic! You must meet them pretty soon, then!”

“Or you’ve already met them,” Stan cut in, a weirdly knowing look on his face. Richie coughed strangely again, glaring at Stan, and Eddie instinctively reached for his hand sanitizer. The last thing he needed was getting sick in the middle of the school week.

That was the last time the Losers talked about soulmates for a long while. Occasionally, the topic would come up in casual conversation, but Eddie always tried to steer the subject away pretty quickly when it did. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but whenever he thought about the single sunflower waiting on Richie’s pale, freckled chest, he got a weird tight feeling deep in his chest. Thinking about some gorgeous person waiting out in the unknown to swoop Richie off his feet and probably take him away forever made Eddie’s heart thump wildly, and his palms start to sweat, so he tried not to. Think about it, that is.

It was only a couple months after Eddie revealed his twirling Wisteria to the other Losers that Stan made an announcement to the rest of the group before school, an uncharacteristically wistful look on his face. They were all standing at the bike racks and idly discussing plans to go see a move that weekend when Bev suddenly got a knowing gleam in her blue eye.

“STANLEY MICHAEL URIS!” Stan jumped almost imperceptibly at Bev’s shout. He walked up to join the group, a rosy blush creeping across his olive cheeks as he adjusted his backpack straps.

“What, Bev?”

“Don’t you what me! Where is it?” she demanded, grabbing him by the shoulders excitedly. “I can see it in your eyes, you sly dog. So show us the tattoo!”

Richie gasped dramatically, joining Bev with one stride to clasp Stan’s shoulder. “Stan! My man! Becoming a man! Bless my stars, I can scarcely believe it! They grow up so fast.” He sniffled and wiped an imaginary tear from his cheek.

Stanley rolled his eyes and shoved Richie half-heartedly, but didn’t attempt to hold back the pure, delighted smile spreading across his face. “Step back, dumbasses, and maybe I’ll show you.”

The other Losers exploded in exclamations and congratulations as they crowded around the youngest member of the group, chattering excitedly. “Alright! Alright, I’ll show you. But we can’t do it here.” Mike and Ben shared a confused glance, but no one questioned Stan as he led them behind a bush near the baseball field.

Methodically, and in typical Stanley Uris fashion, he carefully set down his backpack and lunch and began to unbutton his shirt. Richie audibly inhaled at this, but Beverly promptly smacked a hand over his mouth before he could comment.

Finally, Stanley stood before them in only his white undershirt. Both long arms were exposed, and there was a collective gasp as the group saw the beautiful rosebuds adorning both of his deltoids. Long, thorny stems wound down each upper arm, and right where the smooth skin of his shoulder met his arm, a tightly furled bud.

Ben’s mouth was slightly open in awe, as he reached out and gently touched the new additions. “But, Stan. There’s…”

“Two, I know.” Stan’s cheeks were still a hot pink, and he glanced over his shoulder as he quickly pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up again. “I think that means I have… well. Two soulmates.”

“Stannyyyyyyy,” Richie crowed delightedly. “I always knew you were too much man for one person to handle.” At this, Stan blushed a shade of crimson previously unseen on any human face.

Mike chuckled, but there seemed to be a hint of warmth in his cheeks too, after seeing Stan’s marks. “Lay off, Rich. But… seriously. Congrats, man. Whoever they are will be lucky to have you.”

Eddie, who had been watching quietly, had a sneaking suspicion that Mike was wishing he were one of those someones.

-----------------------

By the time the summer after sophomore year rolled around, Ben and Bev were practically joined at the hip, adorably and almost sickeningly infatuated with each other since the crepe-y magenta azaleas on Ben’s ankle and the daffodil on Bev’s spine had finally blossomed.

Mike and Bill and Stan had been circling each other for ages now, all batting eyelashes and blushing and secretive conversations when they thought no one was looking. The rest of the Losers had an unspoken understanding that it was almost a matter of time until they finally got their acts together and finally became official.

Meanwhile, Eddie tried not to think about his mark too much. Or Richie’s, for that matter.

Richie had started dating girls the second he finally shot up and gained some semblance of muscle, no doubt thanks entirely to the weights that Wentworth Tozier kept in their garage. He was still a dweebus, full of (slightly less) crude jokes and loud, bracing laughter, but somehow that was attractive to at least 6 (7? 8? Eddie had lost count) of the girls at Derry High.

But, even with the new, objectively pretty girls that Rich would occasionally have around, the Losers somehow remained a unit. Bill and Eddie joined track, Bev and Richie became the drama department’s darlings, new friendships were formed and broken. But somehow, they all still remained locked in an orbit together.

There was an unspoken bond, one forged in the fire of being outsiders, that cemented the seven as something deeper than friends and more treasured than family. Strengthened and maintained by casual intimacy, indelible trust, and the sacred Friday movie nights, each person knew that they had something special in their core group of friends.

Eddie was a little bit in awe of them sometimes: their wit and success and athleticism and energy and compassion. He could scarcely believe that he was one of this wonderful group of ridiculous, talented people filled with so much potential. And, as the other losers began to slowly find romance and connections and soulmates, a deep sense of un-belonging seeped into his bones. An overwhelming feeling of other-ness, and sadness, and loneliness, even when surrounded by the people closest to him in this world.

Especially when he was around Richie. Although, that feeling wasn’t quite in his bones. It was in his stomach, and his heart, and it burned. He knew why. Every time a grinning Richie walked up, hand in hand with his latest girlfriend, or casually exposed the sunflower on his chest when changing his shirt, Eddie felt it. First, the pang of jealousy. Then, the warmth of deep affection, and then, the hotter burn of want.

Sometimes, laying in his bed, looking up at the pale blue ceiling his mother refused to let him paint, Eddie thought about what Richie’s grandma had said, years ago. About his mark. “Adoration.”

He’d turn that word over and over in his head for hours, like one of the hard butterscotch candies his aunts gave him when he was little, that’d last for hours but was still as sweet at the end as at the beginning. He adored Richie. He knew that much for sure. With every dumb joke, and every suddenly introspective and quiet revelation, and every time Eddie caught his bright, blue-eyed gaze through his glasses from across the quad. He adored him!

But did Richie adore him back? Eddie wasn’t sure. It depended on the kind of day he’d had at school, or what his mom said when he got home, or the random comment someone had made at track practice, or just how much Eddie despised Richie’s latest girlfriend.

A thousand hair ruffles, and lagging behind the group when they walked somewhere so they could talk, just the two of them. Holding each other’s ice cream cones, and shared hysterics at the dumb comics they leaned over in each other’s bedrooms. The cheesy homemade cards they always exchanged on each other’s birthdays, and the truly horrific homemade cake Richie had tried to make for Eddie’s 16th. The quiet nights when Richie (“you idiot!”) would scale the tree outside Eddie’s window and clamber in to sit, or lay, or dream.

Did those add up to adoration? Eddie really wasn’t sure.

–––––––––––––––

One such night, when Richie was conked out on the rug in Eddie’s room, mouth slightly open and gangly limbs splayed, Eddie felt a particularly strong surge of his own adoration bloom somewhere deep inside.

And on his collarbone, a single bloom of Wisteria floribunda shifted.

hope y’all enjoyed!!!! please shoot me a message if you did, or if you wanna be added to the tag list. this is my first major work in this fandom, so i super want any feedback!!!!!!

#it #reddie #reddie fic #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it fic #mine #soulmate au

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bughead-in-the-comics · 9 months

Text

From Archie by Bob Montana, newspaper strip from April 22, 1948.

#bughead #jughead jones #betty cooper #archie andrews #old comics #comic strip #bughead high school #bughead stadium #bughead sports #bughead baseball #bughead hangout #bughead gossip #bughead worried #bughead confused

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thesecretfandom · 5 years

Text

Chapter Fourty-Two: Runaways - Bughead

Word Count: 3,570

Rated: G

A/N: 3x06 Fix-it or my 3x07 Headcannon. (Read on AO3)

"B, I have tried calling you a thousand times. I've got a major Archie crisis and I need your help." In her frustration, Veronica nearly threw her phone out the window.

Something was very, very wrong. Betty always called back after the third missed call. And it's not like it's been only a few hours… it's been an entire weekend. After leaving her fifth message, she was prepared to pull out the big guns and face Alice Cooper in the flesh.

It was dark when Veronica arrived at the Cooper household. The light from the street lamps were all she had to find her way. Even the light from Betty's window was turned off, though she new Betty slept with the light on. The light chased away the demons that haunted her dreams, and Veronica didn't blame her. There were a lot of sinister things lurking in the dark streets of Riverdale.

"Betty? Mrs. Cooper?" She knocked on the door, but knew it was for naught. Clearly, no one was home. She tried the handle, but the door was locked. A locked door was no problem for Veronica Lodge, though. In fact, breaking and entering was becoming her signature move.

Veronica snuck around to the side of the house. She'd never entered the house this way, but she knew for a fact that a ladder was hidden in the hedges beneath Betty's window. Her suspicions were confirmed when she set the ladder up leading to Betty's window and climbed to the top. The window was unlocked, no doubt for a certain Jones boy to sneak through.

Her bedroom looked untouched. Her laptop was sat on her desk, her backpack slung over a chair. Most shockingly, her Serpent jacket hung on a hook behind her bedroom door. If she was on a mission, especially at this time of night, she'd have that jacket with her.

The door to Mrs. Cooper's room was locked, making it all the more enticing to pick the lock. Betty had taught her well and Veronica had the door open in a moment. The room looked exactly as Veronica would imagine. The floral duvet was perfectly folded over the bed with at least five decorative pillows.

"Where would Alice Cooper hide clues?" Veronica glanced in the closet, but wasn't quite prepared to tackle that disaster. Instead, the side table seemed like the most likely hiding place. She wasn't looking forward to digging through a recently divorced, middle-aged woman's side table drawer, but for Betty she would do just about anything.

Thank God, she found nothing strange other than Betty's cell phone. She reached to pick it up and a post-it note fluttered to her feet.

Safe at Sisters

Suddenly, it all became clear. Alice had a history of hiding her problems at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy and this time, it seemed, Betty was her biggest problem.

"Oh my God, Jughead! That bastard is with Archie!" In all of her distraught over Archie being gone, she hadn't even thought about where Jughead might be. If he were in Riverdale, he would have surely noticed Betty's absence and gone to find her already.

She whipped out her phone, suddenly grateful she hadn't thrown it out the window earlier that day.

"Jughead Jones, I know where you are and if you hang up on me I swear to God I will burn this entire town to the ground."

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They hadn't made it far in a day and a half. The stretch of railroad seemed never ending, and with Archie's injury they couldn't walk at quite the pace Jughead had hoped. They only made it as far as Centerville when his phone started to ring.

That must be Betty calling him back. He'd left her a message, telling her he was on a roadtrip with Archie and would be back in a week.

When he picked up his phone, he instead saw Veronica's name on his caller ID.

"Veronica?"

"Jughead Jones, I know where you are and if you hang up on me I swear to God I will burn this entire town to the ground."

"Wait, what?"

"I know you're with Archie."

"Archie isn't here… I don't know where he is."

Archie was shaking his head vigorously on the other side of the tracks, mouthing 'I'm not here.'

"Cut the bullshit, Jones. I think Betty's in trouble, so I need both of you to get your asses back to Riverdale right now."

Jughead suddenly forgot where he was and where he was going. All thoughts reverted back to Betty, and the declined phone call from two nights ago.

"We'll turn back around right now, but what…?"

"Dude, I'm not here… remember?"

"Archie, I love you like a brother, but I need you to shut your goddamn mouth or I will rip out your stitches and leave you here to die."

"Dude, harsh…"

"Veronica, what's wrong? Where's Betty?"

"I think she's at the Sisters, we need to get her out right now."

"Veronica, I need you to get a car and pick us up at the Centerville bus station. Bring the Serpents."

"I don't think that's a great idea, this needs to be a covert operation."

"Cheryl and Toni then. They know the place." Jughead was frantic, and Archie's confused glances were only annoying him further. "Hurry, Veronica."

"Ok, I'll be there soon."

As soon as he hung up the phone, Jughead ripped his beanie off his head and threw it to the ground. Archie watched him as he paced, stomping back and forth beside the tracks. "Fuck!"

"Jug, please tell me what's going on."

His fingers tugged at his hair, the words in his head unable to be formed into sentences. "She's at the Sisters. Fuck! Next time I see Mrs. Cooper I swear to God, I'm gonna…"

"The Sisters? You mean the group home?"

"That's not what it is!" Jughead bit back. He knew the shady dealings of the Sisters, and Betty was not receiving any real therapy there. "It's a demented asylum, hell bent on brainwashing anyone unfortunate enough to be sent there. Illegal therapies, forced treatments… Polly was sent there when she was pregnant, and so was Mrs. Cooper. God dammit, how could she do this to her?"

Jughead was raving at this point, but he'd snatched his beanie back and yanked it over his head. It was just another mile forward to the Centerville train station, and the bus station was on the other side of the street. If Archie could pick up the pace just a little bit, they'd get there in twenty minutes.

"Okay, Jug. It's going to be okay. We're gonna get her out of there."

"I'm getting her out of there." Jughead picked up a fist sized rock and chucked it into the trees. A frustrated, strangled sort of scream ripped from his throat. "Then I'm burning that place to the ground."

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It had been only a day and a half that she'd been locked in here. Her mother was on her mind, but not because Betty missed her. It was because Betty knew this was it. This was the last tie her mother had to break before losing her forever. She couldn't go back home when she got out of here.

It wouldn't take long for Jughead to find her. When he found her missing from home, he'd know where her mother had sent her. It was the only explanation as to why she wouldn't have told him where she was going.

That's what she kept telling herself, but as her second night in the cement block prison cell approached she worried about what kind of trouble Jughead could have gotten himself into. Maybe he'd been playing the game and ascended. Or maybe he'd confronted Hiram or the Ghoulies again.

She was being walked from the cafeteria to her 'room,' which she preferred to refer to as her cell. The windows were few and far between, but she could tell it was just past dusk. The last traces of the sunset still lingering in the sky.

Room 307 was too high to jump from, even if she thought she could get past the guards without a distraction. The door was locked with a deadbolt on the outside, so she couldn't even pick her way out. Her only chance was for someone to unlock it from the outside.

She moved quickly as they approached her door. Betty had managed to keep the ponytail holder she'd been wearing when they brought her in, and a bobby pin she'd hidden under her tongue. Hooking the bobby pin onto the ponytail, she wrapped it around the door handle as the nun walking with her unlocked the deadbolt.

The tears only came when the door was locked behind her and she was finally alone again. She sat on the windowsill, sobbing into her knees. She was already broken in so many ways, and too much time in this place might take the last of the fight out of her.

"Juggie, please hurry."

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Veronica pulled up to the Centerville bus station in FP's beat up old truck and the two Jones' bikes in the truck bed. Two boys sat outside on a bench. While Archie was hiding his signature red hair under a hideous baseball cap, there was no disguising his jawline. She felt a mix between anger and relief upon seeing him again, but pushed the feeling aside when she finally jumped out of the truck.

As she approached the boys, Toni and Cheryl rode up on the back of the former's bike.

Jughead was on his feet as soon as the truck came into view. Veronica tried to stop him, to tell him her plan, but he marched past her to the truck as Archie slumped behind him, avoiding eye contact with Veronica.

"I'll deal with you later." She said with a glare. "Meanwhile, Jughead… Toni and I have broken in and escaped with Cheryl in the past, so I'm thinking you drive the getaway bike?"

"Not a chance in hell, Veronica. I'm going in." Jughead dug in the back of the truck and pulled out the two Serpent jackets. "Where'd you get Betty's jacket?"

"I broke in to her room using that handy ladder you keep beneath her window." Veronica slipped on her own black jacket as she climbed into the truck.

"Are we getting this show on the road or what?" Cheryl almost seemed bored at this point.

"Let's do it, but… what plan did you all formulate anyway?"

"I'll tell you on the way, but let's get going." Veronica was in the middle seat already, Jughead and Archie piled in on either side.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jughead let the truck coast to a stop, lights off, at the edge of Fox Forest. Cheryl and Toni parked further in the woods, where the tunnel they'd used during their last breakout ended. The two girls would break in, undercover in the uniforms Cheryl had escaped in. They'd cause a distraction in some far corner of the building, allowing Jughead and Veronica to sneak in and find Betty.

"And what I'm I doing, exactly?" Archie asked once again.

"If they chase, you are the decoy. Take off in the truck and make sure they're following you."

Archie looked disgruntled at his duty, but didn't say anything as he let Veronica out of the truck.

"Sit tight, pal." Jughead clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll be back in no time."

Veronica followed Jughead, pushing one of the bikes silently around the tree line. "You're sure we can get in on this side?"

"No," Jughead admitted. "But Betty and I got in this way last year when we came back the night Polly first disappeared."

"We'll make do."

They parked the bikes and set their sights on a forgotten side door. Jughead knew there was a stairway just inside the door, and if the distraction goes well they shouldn't be stopped by any guards along the way. Now to wait for a signal from Toni and Cheryl.

"Just in case the door has been locked, do you have a bobby pin handy?" Jughead asked, his eyes not leaving the door.

"Of course I do. Betty has taught me well."

The sound of shattering glass at the other end of the building shocked them into action. The two ran up and waited for frantic footsteps to disappear before they broke in. Jughead tried the door handle, but his gut hadn't lied. The door was locked.

"How fast can you pick it?"

"Faster than you can." Veronica pulled a bobby pin from her hair, making quick work of the lock.

They moved up one level to the lobby, where the usual check-in desk sat abandoned. Veronica hopped over the desk and was already flipping through a binder labeled 'Check-Ins.'

Jughead yanked the binder from her hands, eager to do something. He couldn't just stand there like an idiot. He found the previous day's check ins. There couldn't be many…

"There." He jabbed his finger at the number next to her name. "Room 307."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Veronica made a move to hop back over the desk, when Jughead caught sight of two night guards rounding the corner.

"Shh!" Jughead ducked around the corner. "Veronica, find a way out and wait at the bikes. I'm getting Betty."

Jughead sprinted toward the nearest staircase.

"Jughead!" Veronica tried to follow, but the two men were too close now and she couldn't escape without being seen.

The third floor was dead silent. And with no markings pointing toward the rooms, he had to try two different hallways before finding 301...302… finally, halfway down the hall he found 307. Already, he could feel the impending doom of being caught before he could get her out.

"Betty?" Jughead knocked lightly on the door. "Are you in there?"

Shuffling footsteps and a few sniffles approached the door. "Jug?"

"Thank fuck." Jughead let out a sigh of relief, but he wasn't in the clear yet. If only he had a… there, wrapped around the door handle, was a ponytail holder with a bobby pin attached. "Betty you're a genius."

"Jug? What's happening?" Betty sounded closer now, only a few inches of metal separated them. "I heard a crash earlier."

"No time to explain. Just hope our distraction stalls them long enough." He almost had the lock, just one more click would do it. "I think there are two guards coming this direction though. Got it!"

The satisfying click of the lock told Jughead he was in. He pulled the heavy door open and before he could even get a good look at her, Betty was in his arms. He could feel the tears on her cheeks as she buried her head in his neck. He held on to her for a long moment, as if she were too fragile to ever let out of his sight again. He slid the ponytail holder from his wrist to hers, a gesture she returned with a slight smile and quick kiss on his cheek.

"Oh shit…" Jughead saw the guards coming around the corner almost too late. He grabbed Betty's hand and ran to the end of the hallway, where the emergency exit led out onto a fire escape. Jughead ran ahead first, hopping the last few feet to the ground and letting Betty land in his arms as he helped her down.

"The bikes are on the side of the building, Veronica's waiting there… Hurry!"

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Betty ran ahead of Jughead, but could feel his hands reaching out behind her. Offering up his protection if needed.

"Hey!" Betty glanced back fast enough to catch a glimpse of the guard who came sprinting out after them. She kept running, but Jughead steered them into the trees. "You can't hide!"

"No, but we can run." Jughead said under his breath. "Take my jacket and get on the bike. Go to the bunker."

Jughead shrugged off his jean jacket as they approached Veronica and the bikes.

"Betty!" Veronica let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God you're o-"

"No time, Veronica. We gotta go." Jughead hopped on his father's bike and pulled on his Serpent jacket. Veronica climbed on behind him, wearing Betty's jacket and hiding her hair under the helmet.

"Jug, wait!" Betty reached out to him. She'd' just been reunited with him, and now he was speeding away from her again.

"Betty, please." Jughead kissed her quickly on the forehead and pushed her back. "We'll meet you at the bunker."

Jughead revved up the bike and he and Veronica sped off in the opposite direction. Guards came running out of the front doors of the building now, followed by Sister Woodhouse.

"Catch that girl!" She shouted. "Follow them!"

Betty knew what Veronica and Jughead were doing, making her jailors believe that Betty was on the back of that bike. She watched until the bike had reached the trees on the other side of the clearing where the Sisters of Quiet Mercy stood as a dark, imposing shadow. The bike's engine cut suddenly, followed by the groaning start of a different engine.

FP's old blue truck knocked over a few signposts as it careened through the grass in front of the building. She couldn't see who was driving, and soon the truck disappeared back in the woods, following the dirt road that led back to the highway. The bike started again, and disappeared into Fox Forest. The guards split up, not sure which to follow.

Betty jumped on her bike and released the hand break. She rolled forward, they had left her to take the most direct path to the bunker. Betty took off, not bothering to look back. The bunker wasn't far…situated in an old, forgotten part of Fox Forest. It was far enough away that they wouldn't accidentally stumble upon it during the chase, but close enough that they wouldn't think she'd take refuge so near.

She didn't hear anyone following her, but took a long loop through the trees to make sure. She cut the engine and hid the bike under a patch of brush just fifty feet from the bunker entrance. She climbed into the bunker, the only place she felt safe anymore.

It looked exactly as she left it, save for Archie not laying crippled in the bed. Betty took a seat on the floor, her back against the ever growing Gargoyle King wall. She watched the door, counting down the endless minutes that passed as she waited.

She jumped when she heard the creaky door flip open.

"Jug?"

"Afraid not, dear cousin." Cheryl strutted into the room, Toni following close behind.

"You guys were a part of this?" Betty accepted a hug from both Cheryl and Toni. It felt forced, but she appreciated the human contact and familiar faces all the same.

"No Serpent left behind, right?" Cheryl said, looking back at Toni.

"We look after one another." Toni agreed, holding two fingers up in the Serpent salute.

Betty glanced behind them. "Are Veronica and Jughead with you?"

"No, we had a head start. Don't worry, they should be here soon."

The three girls sat in silence as they waited. Ten, then twenty minutes passed before they heard the door again. Archie slid down the ladder much more safely than he had the last time, landing hard on the metal floor.

"Archie!" Betty ran up to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. "Where's Jughead? And Veronica?"

"They aren't back yet?" He glanced behind her, seeing only the other two girls. "I thought they had a head start."

"I'm going out to look for them." Betty made a move for the door, but Archie stopped her.

"You can't. I'll go look."

Just as Archie turned to leave again, a pair of familiar black boots came down the ladder. "No need to look for us, we're here."

Betty fell into Jughead's arms as soon as his feet hit the ground, and let him pull her out of the way of the entrance. Veronica came down next, taking Archie's hand as he offered it up. Archie wrapped her in a hug, whispering against her hair.

"As interesting as this little love fest is…" Cheryl started. "Toni and I are going to leave for a little bit of our own privacy."

Betty stayed wrapped up in Jughead's arms as long as she could, but they had to figure out what came next. Archie was still recovering from his a nearly fatal wound and Betty couldn't return home now. Archie and Veronica sat with their arms around each other on one side of the room, while Betty and Jughead did the same sitting on the bed.

"I can't go home." Betty said finally, choking on a sob. Jughead held her tighter. "Not after my mom sent me to that place."

"We aren't going home." Veronica said. "B, I got some essentials for you. A change of clothes, toothbrush, hair brush. Just to get you through the night. Jughead and I are going back to town and will get enough stuff for all of us. Clothes, toiletries and all the cash we can find."

Jughead pulled Betty onto his lap. "We're leaving Riverdale."

She turned her head back to look at him. "For good?"

Jughead nodded, his eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips. "For good."

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A/N: Definitely thinking of a Part 2... I want to know what would happen if these kids just skipped town to escape the drama. Anyone else? Hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think! Also tried a new style for my cover edit, might do more like those in the future :)

#bughead #bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale #fix it fic #varchie #cheroni #soqm #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale fanfic

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